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;t 



MAKE-UP" BOOK— HOW TO " MAKE- UP. A practical fe^. .v. 

aaleurs, with Twt^nt^ rhrec O'loved Tllns^rati^ms. Prire f-O cents. v 



E 451 No. CCXXVI. 

CQ7 

;, ' STANDARD DRAMA. 

Copy 2 



088AWATT0MIE BROWN; 

OR 

THE INSURRECTION AT HARPER'S FERRY. 

g, grama, in S^^ree g^8» 

AS PBBVOBMED AT THE 60WBBT TSEATBl. 



WITH CAST OF CHARACTERS, STAGE BUSINESS, COSTUMES, 
RELATIVE POSITIONS, &c., &c. 



BY MRS. J. 0. SWAYZS 



■ <^» -^ 



NEW YORK : LONDON ; 

SAMUEL FRENCH Sl SON, : Samuel French 

. PUBLISHEBS, ; FUBLISHEB, 

38 East 14th St., Union Square. j so STRAND. 



Containing Rouge, Pearl Powder, ^'hiting, Mongolian, Ruddy Rouge, 
Box and Puff; Chrome, Blue, Burnt Co.k Pencils for the eyelids, Spirit 6 
Came- Hair B»u>^hes. Hare's Foot, Wool, C'laped Hair, Cold Cream, Joir* 



» /I T .rtrAri-trtrw /llooc; T\o/>lro/4 i-»i3o4 



No Plays Exchanged or Sent on Approval. 



INTERNATIONAL 
DESGEIPTIVE CATALOGUE 

PLAYS, 

AND 

DKAMiVTIG WORKS, 

With a Descriptive List of Amateur Plays and Articles. 



CONTENTS 



Page. 

Amateur Dramas, Comedies, etc — 32 

Amateur Operas 42 

Articlea Needed by Amateurs 45 

Beards, Whiskers, Mustaches, etc. . . 47 

Bitsof BurltSQue 38 

Bjund sets of Plays 14 

BiilwerLytton's Plays 24 

Burlesque Dramas 42 

Burnt Curk 45 

Charade Plays 38 

Colored Fire audTableiiux Lights... 45 

Comic Dramas for Male Char. oniy. 42 

Costume Books 25 

Cumberland's Edition 19 

Darkey Dramas 39 

Dramas for Boys 42 

Di awing Room Plays 25 

Elocution Reciters aud Speakers — 44 

Ethiopian Dramas 39 

Evenin-Jt's Entertainment 40 

Fairy Plays 40 

French's Edition 2 

French's English Operas 42 

French's Italian Operas. 37 

French's Standard Miror Drama U 

French s Parlor Com eriit-s 41 

Frobisher's Popular Recitals 45 

Cuide Books for Amateurs 41 

Grand Army Dramas 36 

Crease Paiiits 48 

Home Plays fur Ladies 41 



Pa^'e 

How to " Make-up " ■m 

How We Managed our Private Thea- 
tricals. 36 

Irish Plays 36 

JuvenilePlays 40 

Lacy 'a Costumes 26 

Magnesium Tableaux Lights 45 

Make-up Box -JS 

Miscellaneous Books 25 

Miscellaneous Editions of Plays. 24 

Miscellaneous Plais 13 

Mrs. Jarley 'a Wax Works 24 

New Plays 14 

Nigger Jokes and Stump Speeches. . . 40 

P.trlor Magic 41 

Parlor Pantomimes... 44 

Pieces of Pleasantry 33 

Plays for Male Characters only 37 

Round Games 41 

Scenes for Amateurs 25 

Scriptural and Historical Dramas. . . 42 

Sensation Dramas 38 



Serio-('omic Drama<" 

Shadow Pantomimes 

Shakespeare's Piays 

Sheet Musi'" 

Tableau.x Vivants 

Temperance Plays 

Theatrical Face Preparations 

Vocal Mufaic of Shakespeare's Plays. 



Wiss 47 



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THE STANDARD DRAMA 

No. CCXXVT. 



08SAWATT0MIE BEOWN; 

OR, 

THE INSURRECTION AT HARPERS' FERRY. 



TO WHICn ARE ADDED 



A Description of the Costume— Cast of the Characters— Entrance;? and Exita- 
Relative Positions of the Performers on tlie Stage, and 
the whole of the Stage Business 



BY MRS. J. C. SWAYZE. 



Entered according to Act of Con2:ress, in the year 1859, by J. 0. Swatze, in tho 
Clerk's Office of the District Court for tlie Southern District of New Yorli. 



itfa gorli: 

SAIMUEIL. JEnj^ENCU, I^TJJBTilSHER, 

122 Nassau St., (Up Stairr.) 






OAST or OHARAOTERS. 

As first performed at the Bowery Theater, December 16, 1859. 



John Brown, Mr. G. C Boniface. 

Mr. Cook, Mr. Foster. 

Frederick, '\ C Mr. Warwick. 

Oliver, f Brown's) Mr. Garden. 

Watson^ r Sons, "l , Mr. Evans. 

Lewis, ) (^ Mr. Holland. 

Black Jim, a Border Ruffian, Mr. Rynar. 

Little Billy Mr. W. M. Reeve. 

Old Dearborn, Mr. Hotto. 

Ralph Dearborn, His Son, Mr. J. M. Ward. 

Landlord, .- Mr. Davenport. 

Reporter, , Mr. Lee. 

Citizen, Mr. Moore. 

Jailor, Mr. Burke. 

Soldiers, Citizens, Ruffians, ^c. 

Mrs. Brown, Mrs. Cantor 

Julia, Miss Annie Senter. 

Alice, Mrs. Boniface. 

Jepiha, Miss H. Lang. 

Suke, Miss Osborne. 

Mrs. Sligo, .Miss Lee. 







OSSAWATTOMIE BROWN. 



ACT I. 

SCENE I. — An apartment in the North Elba farm. Mrs. Browx 
seated in an arm chair. Room arranged for the reception of 
guests. 

Mrs. Brown. It is a sad fate which keeps me here, and debars me 
of that privilese, so dear to a mother's heart, of witnessing the hap- 
piness of my dear son, my boy Frederick, who this day leads to the 
altar, one who is already dear to mo as a daughter. 

Enter Jeptha. 

Well, Jeptha, you seem to have a heavy load there. 

Jeptha. [Putting down a tremendous wedding cake, and display' 
ing a number of extremely large favors.} Heavy load ! well I reckon 
the size of that 'er weddin' cake's not to be come at every day. And 
as these 'ere dandy jumpers, it's not the weight so much as the orders 
I've got not to muss 'em. 

Mrs. B. But what are you going to do with them all, Jeptha? 

Jeptha. Why, ye see the gals was all a doin' somethin' to help to 
tidivate, and as none of them thought of my cake, I jest asked for 
these, and as it'll take about two dozen of 'em to go round, I'd better 
be a stickin' of 'em on. \SticliS them on with pins as she speaks. 

Mrs. B. The neighbors are very kind. 

Jeptha. Kind! well I reckon a litter from the same sow couldn't 
be more like brothers and sisters than the young folks, and as to the 
boss, there is not one in the village but calls him Mr. Brown, for his 
larnin'. And well they might, for he talks like a 'lectioneer and raises 
the best cows in the hull United States. But where's that Little 
Billy — well, if he aint the most provokinist piece of animal flesh in 
these parts, my name aint Jeptha Ann Higginbottom. {Calling.^ 
Little Billy — Little Billy. I bet he's a peggin' into those quintze 
preserves like a half starved alligator, to say nothin' of the apple 
tarts. [Again calling.} Little Billy — Little Billy. 



4 OSSAWATTOMIE BROWX. 

Uiiter Little Billy. lie is eating as he enters., hides a tart in his 
jacket, and wipes his mouth. 

Jeptha. I told you so. Jest look at that "ere unsliameful villain. 
If he can't take more down that meek-Iookin' mouth of his than an' 
underfjround railroad, or a hogshead with the bottom out. 

Little Billy. Ah now, mj'darlint, what's the use of palarverin'; sure 
I aint been afther spoilin' none of the work of ye's fair fingers, [Aside.] 
unless yer count ther pies. 

Jeptha, And don't ye know ye're a spilin' of it now, a standin' here 
tellin' lies, when you know you've shirked your work, like a lazy, 
guod-for-nothin' that you are. 

Little B. Och ! now, Mrs. Higginbottom — 

Jeptha. Don't Mrs. Higginbottom me,, yer pesky critter, I tell you 
ye didn't milk the black cow — 

Little B. Sure and you're wrong inthirely. [Aside."] I milked Lim 
yesterday. 

Jeptha. And Kitty, with the skew horns 7 

Little B. Yes, shure. [Aside.] Devil a dhrop since the day before. 

Jeptha. Well come and help me fix the things on this table, and 
see if yer can keep yer fingers off the eatin' sass. 

[They go vp, quarrelling . 
Enter Bkown. 

Brown. Well wife, we shall soon be called upon to give up our 
three boys for a time. I hope one at least will go more hopefully ou 
his journey for the fond prayers of a wife. 

Mrs. B. But who knows the hardships they may endure? 

Brown. I hope none, wife, but should they need aid, thank God 
their father's arm is strong, and his blood warm, and he'd spill it to 
the last drop, should danger threaten them. 

Jeptha. [Coming down] Never mind, old man. Don't get excited. 
The Injuns aint got 'em yet, and till they do, you'd better be a 
straightenin' down, for the weddin' party 's a comiu' down the road, 
and '11 be here before you can count nothin'. 

Enter the hridal party — Frederick leading Julia— Oliver, Alice 
Watsox and Lewis with ladies of the party. 

Frederick. Your blessing, my dear parents, for myself and my 
dear Julia, who will send her husband off with a smile, while she 
has your affection to cheer her in his absence. 

Julia. Say rather I rejoice in being able to cheer your hours of 
loneliness ; and, as I never was permitted by my Heavenly Father, to 
know the happiness of a parent's love, all that duty I should have shown 
to them is garnered in my heart for you — my father — mother. 

Taking the hand of Brown, and sinking at the feet of Mrs. 
Brown. 

Mrs. B. Bless you, my child ! 



OSSAWATTOMIE BROWN. 5 

Jepiha. Well, here's Master Lewis a gettin' as hity-tity as a grass- 
hopper on a hot griddle. His fiddle's a spilin', to say nothin' of the 

weddin' cake, and the cider, and Well, it's a queer weddin', the 

dear knows. 

[Screams at seeing Little Billy choJcing — He makes the most violent 
gesticulations as Jeptha looses his neck, slaps him on the hack, and 
at last throws a quantity of water in his face. 

The dear knows, I thought he was gone, for he's been eatin' the wed- 
din' cake, and one of them 'ere pins has stuck in his throat. 

[Guests arrive at intervals — Music heard — Places taken for the 
dance — -.4s the dance is ended, all rush forward, at a scream from. 
Jeptha, who is supporting Mks. Brown in her chair. 

Mrs. B. [Slowly recovering.] Do not grieve, my children — it is the 
will of heaven ; I had not thought to leave you now. But since it 
must he so, heed well, my children, your mother's last request — 

Fred. Speak ! oh, speak. 

Mrs. B. You are yet young, all of you, and need a guiding hand. 
Promise me to obey your father at all times, at any sacrifice. You 
will show him that devotion that shrinks not at the cost of life. 

All. We promise. 

Mrs. B. [To Julia.] And you, my daughter, will live to take my 
place towards my young, my centle Alice — to bless my Frederick with 
a true wife's love, and soften his declining years with watchful care. 
[Pointing to the bowed form of Brown.] Promise me this. 

Jidia. I do, I do, 

Mrs. B. My children — Alice — husband. [Dies. 

TABLEAU. 

SCENE II. — Garden without the Farm. 

Enter Jeptha, ivith milk pails. 

Jepiha, Well, there ; if I was to hunt from Thanksgivin' a year, to 
the next Fourth of July, I reckon I'd be as near on to findin' that con- 
sarned Irisher. Not that I want to cast eyes on him, but since Mr. Fred- 
erick's gone, and Oliver and Watson, there's a heap to do, and it all 
falls on me. Well, if there aint that half-breed between a' elephant 
an' a crocodile, a swollerin' down my doughnuts, hot out o' the pan. 

[Enter Little Billy. On seeing Jeptha, tries to hide doughnuts, 
they hum his fingers and he puts them in the hreast of his coat. 

Little B. [Aside.] Shstay there, ye divils ! How purty she looks. 
If I could jest get her to listen to a little touch of me illoquince now, 
jest so she'd give me a touch of her purty lips — widout raisin' the 
divil wid a poor boy. [To her.] Mrs. Higginbottom. 



6 OSSAWATTOMIE BROWN. 

Jepiha. A grissly cow, with her ears cropped, and as blind as a 
young kitten 'd have more sense to larn, than some folks that thinks 
they're smart. 

Littfe B. Mrs. Higginbottom. [Detaining her. 

Jeptha. [Going]. Let me go, yer pesky fool ! 

Little B. Miss Jepthy — • 

Jeptha. [Taming hack.] Wall, what is it 7 

Little B. [Aside.] Ah, ah, ye stubborn little divil, yer. [Aloud, 
drawing her hach] Miss Jipthy — ah, now, me darlint, come here — yer 
don't know what I'm going to say to yer. 

Jeptha. I do, you're always a makin' love to me. [Simpering. 

Little B. I ain't. [She txirns away.] But I'm a goin' to now. [She 
turns to him.] I'm a goin' to tell yer how much 1 love ye. Tlirough 
you I've lost me appetite ; through you I've lost tin pounds of flesh ; 
through you I've lost me — me — me — m(>ney. 

Jeptha. Your money ! 

Little B. Ye.s. [^4st^e.] Asmuchaslhadof it. [Onhishiees.] If ye 
only knew the love that's burnin' in me brist, — [Sniveling, [that's 
burnin' in me brist — [Jumping ^tp.] By me faith — och murdher — 
murdher — [Opening his coat and dropping the doughnuts out.] — I 
might well say that, for there was soniethin' burnin' in me brist, and 
no mistake. [Jeptha is going.] Ilould on. 

Jepiha. What do you want 1 

Little B. Don't ye know 7 

Jeptha. No. [Still going. 

Little B. Yer little divil ye, I must get a kiss. [She coquettes, he 
follows her until near the door, he attempts to kiss her, when she slaps 
his face and runs off.] That was a stinger. But I'll be even with 
the little varmint. Now I'm a boy of a dilicate appetite, but I'll go 
and I'll stale all of her mince pies that's in the closit, and if I don't 
ate every one of 'em, damn me, Mrs. Higginbottom. [Exit. 



SCENE III. — Liierior of a rude tavern or ranchero. 

Black Jim and ruffians gamUing. Landlord looking on. Sdke 

busy at side. 

Black J. Euchred ! By God ! Suke fetch some more of that whis- 
key here, or — 

Suke. Here's lazy bones will got you the whiskey. And now, my 
gentlemen, you've got to clear oft" from this table, while I put some 
supper down for the travelers. 

Black J. Travelers, what travelers '? 

Suke. Three young men that's traveling out here with stock — 
farmers from York State, I reckon. They're gone to put up the 
critters. 

Black J. Traveling with stock, be they 1 Now look'ee here Suke, 
I'm goin' out to take a look at their stock, and mind, no unpleasant 



OSSAWATTOMIE BROWN. 7 

siniwations about a feller's character while we're gone; you know me, 
Suke. [Exeunt loafers. 

Suke. I do know ye for the bisgest blackguard and bully in the 
territory, and if you wasn't the shot you are, you'd have been under 
the ground this many a long day. 

Enter Feederick, Oliver, aad Lewis. 

Welcome, strangers. Sit and take something. 

Lewis. Thank you, my good woman. But tell me who are those 
men who — 

Suke. Hush, they are here. 

Enter Black Jim and the others. 

One of them is my husband, young men. 

Ulack J. Good evening strangers. [To Lewis.] Try a drink 1 

Lewis. No, I am not in the habit of drinking. 

Black J. Well, no offense. Here Suke, give us something to keep 
the blue devils out. Take a hand of cards, youngster 1 

[To Lewis, as Oliver and Watson sit at table. 

Suke. [Making signs to Lewis.] There's time enough after the 
young fellows have had their supper. 

Lewis. If I chose to gamble with you I should say so. 

Black J. You won't take a hand, then 7 

[Taking out his knife and trifling with it. 

Lewis. No ! 

Black J. Dog garn ye ! then take that. 

Striking him, the Now is returned. Black Jim's companions try 
to pull him away and mollify him. He breaks from them and 
strikes at Lewis with his knife. Frederick snatches the knife 
from his grasp and fells him to the earth. 



SCENE IV. 

Enter Frederick, travel-worn and weary. 

Fred. I am weary and would fain seek rest, but while there is yet 
a hope of finding shelter for my brother, I cannot see him perish. 
But where '? Oh heaven ! No siglit or sound denotes the tread of 
man for miles. I'll on ! on ! Kind Providence direct me to find aid 
to save a dying brother ! [Exit. 

Enter Lewis, supported by Oliver. 

Lewis. Here let me rest, my brother. I feel I cannot go further. 
I am but wearing out your strength and my own — 



8 OSSAWATTOMIE BROWN. 

Oliver. Try yet, my brotlier. Bear np but a short time, and Fred- 
erick may find aid. Oh liow I curse the hand that dealt this coward 
blow ! Why had I not slain him ere his arm was raised? But let 
me reach the haunts of men again — I swear — 

Lewis. Take no such oath, my brother. I feel that had I not re- 
ceived ;hat wound, the end had been the same. My strength 
has given way before the hardships of our journey, slowly at first, but 
surely, as day by day cast perils in our path. I fear I have but ill 
repaid my brothers for the love which took the burden of my duties 
on themselves, already overtasked. 

Oliver. Speak not so, my brother. Oh heaven ! he is sinking, his 
hands are icy cold, his lips are powerless. Oh, brother! brother! 

Enter Frederick. 

Fred. I have no help, and he is dying ! Oh, God ! are we then so 
powerless 1 so helpless, and alone 7 — 

Lewis. Dear brothers, do not weep for me. I cannot tell you how 
hard, how very hard it is to leave you, and that dear home whicli I 
can never see again. My father, and our dear, dear Alice. My 
brothers too, who would have shared our peril. Tell them I go in 
peace to join our sainted mother! I see her now, her form encircled 
n its angel brightness is beckoning me to heaven. [Dies. 



SCENE V. Interior of Brov\n's house in Potioivottomie Creek. 

Brown seated reading. Julia occupied at table. Jeptiia busy 
round the room. 

Julia. Pray do not give way to this sadness, dear father. Are wo 
not all again united and living in comparative prosperity 1 

Brown. I cannot dismiss from my thoughts the fate of my son. 
Brave boy, he had undertaken a mission that was too much for his 
strength. 

Jidia. And it has pleaased his Heavenly Father to take him to a 
happier home. 

Brown. But 'twas my fault — my fault. What were my few re- 
raaing years to his young life 1 

Enter Aliok. 

Alice. Much; dear father, to those who love you. Can we devise 
no means to cheer you 1 

Brorvn. Ir was a blessed day that restored the poor wanderers to us. 

Julia. Daily.and hourly I remember it, with gratitude and pray 
tliat we may never know another separation. 

Entc^r Krf.ikuj';k, Oliver, and Watsow. 

Fred. A prayer which T second with ni; my hesrt, swci'i wife. 



OSSAWATTOMIE BROWN. 9 

With what joy I see you all again, gathered around a peaceful, happy 
hearth, and I can come home after a day's hard toil to claim this 
sweet reward. [Kisses Julia. 

Juha. Our father is sad to-night — go speak to him. 
Fred. Not giving way to sadness, old man, and such prospects be- 
fore us 1 

Brown. I know, my boy, I know. But I don't like the place. It's 
not a peaceful one. I see men's rights molested by a set of lawless 
rumans. Sooner than suffer the innovations that some do, I'd rather 
death, war, anything but tyranny. 

Jeptha. [Coming down.] There now, old man, don't go tew gettin' 
excited, 'cause it brings on colic with them that's of a bilious turn. 
I remember my old grandmother used tew say so, for she was subjic' 
to it. 

Fred. What, .Jeptha 7 biliousness, or getting excited 1 

Jeptha. Some folks is subjic' tew too much smartness, and then ifs 
apt to be dangerous. But here's Miss Alice, sittin' as deserted as a 
dead rat in a two acre turnip field. Can't you take some notice of 
the gal 1 

Julia. Hush, Jeptha. Alice is suffering some anxiety of mind, and 
does not wish to join in conversation. 

Jeptha. No ; it's my belief she'd rather be a jining onto somethin' 
else. But I jest thought. [Hunting in her pocket.] Mrs. Jackson 
sent her boy down tew the settlement, and as I knew Miss Alice was 
a pining like a new weaned heifer, I told him tew keep his eyes skin- 
ned when the mail come in. [Producing letter. 

Alice. [Snatching it.] Oh, Jeptha, Jeptha ! 

Jeptha. Wall, if you was in a hurry, why on airth didn't you say 
so 1 

Alice. From dear, dear Ralph. [Exit. 

Jeptha. [Looking off.] And she's a cryin' over it as if it was his 
last dying speech and confession. 

Oliver. Frederick, who was that man you gave work to, yesterday*? 

Fred. A fellow traveling through the country, almost starved, so 
he said. And indeed he seems grateful enough for the shelter ho 
has found. 

Oliver. A suspicious looking fellow ; his face haunts me like a 
dream. 
Julia. Husband be careful. 

Enter a farm lalorer. 

Man. Mr. Frederick, one of the men's been kicked by the black 
Jieifer. He's hurt pretty bad, and wants to see you. 

Julia. You will not go. 

Fred KuA why not, little coward 7 [Turning hack and embracing 
her.] Why so alarmed, dearest 7 If I am not back in five minutes 
send the boys after me. [Exit 

Julia. Father, I am alarmed, If that man should be here under 
false pretenses 7— if Black Jim— 



10 OSSAWATTOMIE BROWN. 

Oliver. [Starting up.'\ Black Jim ! that face ! why did I not re- 
member 1 Father ! brothers ! Come! come! 

A shot is heard — Julia screams and sinTcs vpon her knees — TTiey 
bring in Frederick, who is wounded, and place him on the ground 
beside her — She shrieks and sinks upon his breast — Alice, who has 
entered, stands motionless. 

PICTURE. 

Brown. [After a pause, and standing over Frederick's body.] If 
ye are sons of mine, remember j-our mother's dying words, and 
swear to avenge this deed. My son ! my son ! your father's head 
shall know no rest — this hand shall know no touch but an implement 
of death, to wield against your murderers until it is avenged. I"ll 
spare no recreant heart that dares befriend them. I'll leave no roof 
unburned that ever gave them shelter. I'll leave no foot-path in the 
wilderness untracked, till I have laid them in the dust. Swear this ! 

All. "We swear ! we swear ' 



end of act I. 



ACT 11. 

SCENE I.— A Wood. 

Enter Brown, as if pursued. 

Brown. To what extremity am I driven 1 Hunted down, pursued, 
accused of the blackest crimes by those whose homes I hold as sacred 
as my own. In the pursuit of vengeance, we drove those lawless 
ruffians to further deeds of violence and bloodshed. Whilst still 
evading our pursuit, they drew the inhabitants from their beds, bru- 
tally murdered, and then left them to be counted as our victims. Thus 
are we in our turn pursued. My sons may even now be overtaken — 
murdered — by the infurfate mob. 

Enter Oliver, Watson, and others. 

Ha I You are here. Fought through them like brave fellows, as you 
are. But hark ! they are not far~distant. What chance is there for 
escape 1 

Oliver. But litUe. The people ore infuriated— they swear 'twas 
we who committed last night's outrage. 



OSSAWATTOMIE BROWX. 11 

Watson. There is nothing left but to surrendei- up our lives, and 
strive to die like men. 

Brown. And is that spoken like a man 1 No, lads, one more effort, 
and we are home. The doors are stout — we have arms and amuni- 
tion — once in our stronghold we can defy them for a while. Come, 
lads, come ! [Exeunt. 



SCENE IL— Same as Scene V, Act I. 
JoLiA, Alice and Jeptha discovered. 

Alice. Look up, dear Julia — must we forever weep 1 Oh! why 
does not my father come 1 

Julia. Frederick ' oh, my husband ! 

Alice. Alas ! what shall I do 7 

Jeptha. Why, just trust to the old man and the boys, and be cheer- 
ful, like I am. [Sobbing violently. 

Julia. What is that ! [Stai-ilng vp wildly. 

Jeptha. 'Taint nothin'. 

Julia. Did you not hear 7 Alice, cling to me ! away with all sel- 
fish grief — and heaven grant me strength to meet new trials. 

Shouts are heard — Brown rushes in, followed by Oliver and Watson 

Brown. Bar the doors and windows, make fast every place, and 
give them fight. If we're to be hunted down like dogs, we'll sell our 
lives as dearly as we can. 

[^5 he is speaking and doors being secured, a man appears at window, 
levels musket at Brown, is seen by Jeptha who snatches his musket 
and levels it at his head ; he retreats. 

Jeptha. No you don't while my name is Jeptha Ann Higginbot- 
tom. [Secures window. 

Brown. Don't fire boys, we will leave that till the last. They all 
may have wives or sisters, and I want not to shed a drop of innocent 
blood if I can help it. 

Julia. [Looking out.] But who are these who threaten you so vio- 
lently 7 These are no hired ruffians ! Oh, tell me in heaven's name 
what have you done to arouse such hatred in them 7 What heavy 
crime committed 7 

Brown. Crime, girl ! Look down upon those men, and in every 
face behold a slaveholder ! The crime I have committed against 
those men is not the bloody deed with which they charge me, but 
worse, far worse, for I have told them to their teeth, that I hold not 
with their creed which teaches them to barter human souls. 

Julia. r7\> Oliver.] Is this true 7 

Oliver. It is. 

Brown. And they think to shut the old man's mouth that he may 
breathe no word to rob them of their sanctity. [Shots without.] They 



12 OSSAWATTOMIE BROWJr. 

think to murder the old bear in his den, but they'll find it Is not so 
easy. [Shots again.] Ha, ha, the old fox is not reached yet. \ Shots.] 
You've got him cornered, but let him once get loose again, and he has 
teeth that will bile, aye, and leave their mark among ye. 

Oliver. They seem afraid to force an entrance. 

Julia. Perhaps they may yet disperse. 

Alice. Heaven grant they may ! 

Brown, Amen, for your'sake child, but I wager they are hatching 
some noAV treachery. 

Jeptha. [Looking out] That's so, old man. They move around 
with torches a bellerin' like scared injuns. Why, I do believe — 

[An explosion heard. 

BroiPn. Great God! They have fired the house. [All stand hor- 
ror stricken.] Shout to theni " /loZcZ." If this poor body will satisfy 
their malice, I'll throw myself a hostage in their midst. Let them 
tear me limb from limb, but burn not these innocent children in their 
home. [Rushing to door. Hold I I am ready ! I surrender. 

Oliver and Watson. No, no, we Avill share your fate. 

Alice. No, no, why should our lives be bought at such a price. Let 
us die here together. 

Julia. [Placing herself in doorway.] You shall not stir! Father, 
brothers, no ! Rather let us fall upon our knees in prayer, and occu- 
py our few remaining moments in supplicating mercy from above ! 

JeiAha. Unless we can find a safer place helow . [Opening trap] 
Down into the milk-cellar, the other steps lead up into the barn ; the 
night is dark, and while the villains think we are roasting up -Awe, 
we can make for the woods, and off before they get their eyes skin- 
ned. 
[Sends them down singly. The flames mount higher and higher. 

Jeptua begins to descend as (he flames burst in. 

PICTURE. 



SCENE III. Apartment in Dearborn's house. 
Enter Dearborn and Ralph. 

Dearborn. Ralph, you appear somewhat distrait this morning. 

Ralph. Yes, sir ; I acknowledge my mind is not quite at rest. 

Dearb. I regret it. I had looked forward to a little conversaticn 
this morning. 

Ralph. My dear sir, I surely cannot be the very unsociable being 
you would represent me. I am always ready to listen to your agree- 
able and instructive conversation. 

Dearb. I am glad you are so fully impressed with what is your 
duty towards a parent. Let me remember, — Oh ! I was about to re- 
mark that I had rec«iived a letter from your uncle, in which he licts 



OSSAWATTOMIE BKOWN. 13 

promised me a visit. Tliis will be the move interesting to you, as ho 
Avill be accompanied by liis -svife and daiishter, your cousin Lucy. 
But you are not paying such strict attention — 

Ralph. Pray excuse me, sir ; I own I am a little absent minded 
this mornins;. 

Dearh. Your cousin Lucy is a very charming girl. [Ralph seems 
lost in iliov gilt.] I was remarking that your cousin Lucy, — [Very 
loudly.] Ahem ! 

Ralph. [Starting.] Pray go on sir, I am all attention. 

Dearh. [Pointedly.] Yes, I see you are. [Rising.] Well, sir, as you 
seem to treat the matter with so much indifference, I shall not trou- 
ble myself further than to inform you that you arc expected to treat 
your aunt and cousin with some respect — and in short that I have — 
more — settled views in prcspect for you. 

Ralph. Sir, may I ask, without impropriety, that you will be more 
explicit in your remarks. 

Dearh. Well, then, sir, since you drive me to it, I have always in- 
tended that you and your cousin should form an alliance, that is much 
desired by her father and myself. And since there is no possible ob- 
stacle — 

Ralph. I am glad at last to see the tendency of your remarks, and 
that there may be no misunderstanding, will you now oblige me by 
resuming your seat and giving me your attention for a few moments. 

Dearh. Well, sir, be brief. 

Raljjh. You said just now, that there could be no possible obstacle 
to the fulfillment of your plans. My dear father, there is an obstacle, 
which I will state in as few words as possible. Some two years back 
I made the acquaintance of a young girl under somewhat peculiar 
circumstances. It so happened that, under Providence, I was the 
means of rescuing her from great peril. I became in time a welcome 
visitor at her father's house. I found her to be as virtuous and amia- 
ble, as I already knew she was beautiful. But her parents, who are 
poor, though honest people, being forced to emigrate, I have endur- 
ed a separation of some months — only, however, with the promise of 
claiming her — my beautiful Alice — at the expiration of a year. 

Dearh. Very fine ! Quite a romance. But do you know the con- 
sequences in case of my displeasure 7 

Raljjh. I know that it is in your power to make me penniless, but 
only condescend to see my beautiful Alice, and I will answer for the 
rest. 

Unter a Servant, with Letters. 

Dearh. Will you "? Well, just hand me those letters. [Does so.] 
And now go about your business ; I'll think this over. [Exit Ralph.] 
[Opening letter.] 1 declare the fellow has quite bewildered me with 
liis sudden disclosures. What, my little Lucy to be thrown away on 
a stranger, and he run off with this little chit of a nobody knows 
who. Ah ! what is here % A letter in a strange hand, and on the 
rery subject. [Reads.] " Beware of your son forming a connection 
which would be discreditable to the last degree. He is about to 



14 OSSAWATTOMIE BROWN. 

marry the daughter of a man notorious for his bad deeds. An out- 
law and a murderer." Good heavens ! can I believe my eyes 1 This 
must be put a stop to at once, if true, but I'll not believe i*^^. Here, 
Ralph! Ralph! [Exit. 



SCENE IV. Interior of a miser able shed. 
Julia supporting Alice. Jeptha seated near. 

Julia. How terrible is this suspense ! It is long since our brother, 
risking all for our protection, went in search of help, and the other 
members of our little band are guarding, lest, being found, the fury 
of the mob should drive us even from this poor shelter. But alas ! 
the time is flying rapidly and no assistance yet. We may be waylaid, 
killed perhaps, and then, oh heaven ! what can save us then? 

Alice. [Awakening.] Where am 1 7 Havel been sleeping? Yes, 
I was once more happy, for I thought I was again at home. Where 
are they 1 Whereas my father '? 

Julia. Compose yourself, dear Alice. I trust he will soon be here. 

Alice. And you, my dear sister. How much greater must be your 
sufferings, and yet for my sake you bear all in silence. But hark! 
what noise is that ! [Starting up.] I hear them. Father ! brothers ! 
you are come — ah — 

[Falls senseless as Black Jim appears at window. 

Julia. Lost ! lost ! 

Black J Halloa! what in thunder's here 7 Instead of pitching ou 
the old wolf in his den, he's given chase and left us to stumble in 
among the cubs. Hallao ! what dead '^ [Seeing Alice.] No, only 
scared. Let's see. [Is about to lift her. Julia hurls him off. 

Julia. Villain, away ! Whatever your hellish purpose, while I have 
life, you touch not with impious hand, that stricken girl. 

Black J. Away, woman! or take the same fate as your husband. 

Julia. My husband ! ah, I know you now, and yet I do not fear 
you. I ask not mercy for myself. I would bless the hand that gave 
me peace and heaven. But if you would escape the curse of him 
whose blood now stains your hands, spare her, the innocent sister of 
your victim, and let her go unharmed. 

[Jeptha steals to window and makes signals for assistance. 

Black J. Enough of this. Away there from the girl. 

Julia. Merciful heaven ! is there no way to move you 1 Is it not 
enough to know your hands are already dyed in her brother's blood 7 
Should you commit this double deed of infamy, the curse of heaven 
would follow in your footsteps ; her voice with his would shout it in 
your ears by day and night, thou traitorous coward, thou double 
murderer ! 

Black J. What ho ! there ! 

Julia. I do not fear you now. When your murderous steel shall 
pierce the only heart that shields her, heaven will send some power to 
aid the helpless and the friendless ! 



OSSAWATTGMIE BROWN. 15 

[He rushes towards her, when Jeptha seizes a gun and fires out of 
window. 

Black J. Ah, you'd bring the old wolf down on me would you 1 

[Seizes Jeptha, holds a knife over her, when Brown and Watson 
rush in. Brown snatching the knife from his grasp, plunges it 
it in his heart ; he falls. 

Brown. Die ! Murderer of my sou ! 



SCENE V. An apartment in Cook's house. 
Enter Cook with an open letter. 

Cook. Our plans are well nigh ripe, and as the old man Brown, has 
long been looked upon as the most fit leader of the undertaking, his 
escape and arrival here is most opportune. Ha, here come's his 
pretty daughter-in-law. 

Enter Julia. 

Julia. Mr. Cook, how can wo express sufficient thanks— 

Cook. None are needed, I assure you, I am happy in being able to 
afford my friends assistance. But you wished to see me 1 

Julia. Yes. You say my father is about engaging in a scheme 
which has for its object, that which makes me tremble for his safety. 
I would ask you, can this mad project not be surrendered % Can he 
not be restored to his peaceful home, or who persuades him to this 7 

Cook. None, he joins our cause heart and hand, as one who holds 
with freedom. 

Julia. But why choose him ? His mind has been so tried with 
suffermg, I fear 'tis overbalanced. I need not tell you there are some 
men that smk under great trials hopelessly and at once, and others 
whose ramds will bend beneath the storm, to rise, crooked, deformed 
perhaps, but not extinguished. Is it not so with him 1 under his 
great trials, his mind has warped and cramped until he can see no- 
thmg but through the glass of his revenge, and lives but to redress 
his wrongs. 

Cook. It may be so. 

Julia. It is, and being so, is it just or generous to choose him for 
this purpose ? Is it not fostering a madness that has grown out of his 
misfortunes 7 

Cook. You are severe. But you will find that his friends are at 
le^st prepared to share tlie (hinder with bini— but he is here. Your 
interview must be short, for your time is limiled by vour father's 
tears for your safety. [ Erit as B rown enters. 

Julia. Could I but move him from liis purpose, but I fear this 
madness is not to be repressea. Father! vou are fully determined 
on this mission 1 



16 OSSAWATTOMIE BROWN. 

Brown. I am girl, fully. 

Julia. And you have thought on all the serious consequences — 
on the danger to my brotliers ] 

Broxvn. Who says they are unwilling 1 

Julia. They are willing. Their courage will always equal their 
duty and affection. But is it right, my father, to put it to the test 7 

Broivn. Thank God ! my boys are not cowards ! But try not to 
dissuade me — it raises an alarm in my breast I cannot conquer — 
speak of it no more. 

Julia. I will not, and since you are bent on this, I can but pray for 
you. 
{A'L\c^ rushes on, and sinks into her father'' s arms — he regards her 

with great tenderness and emotion. 

Brown. Alice, my good child ! 

Alice. Oh ! tell me it is not true. You are not going forever from 
your Alice 1 You will not send us from you? Think how heavily 
the hours must pass that threaten you with danger. \_Sinks at his feet. 

Brown. My child, I feel your sorrow, but there are reasons which 
you cannot understand. 

Alice. If but for my brothers' sake. Think of the dear one we 
liave lost — think of the husband for whom she sorrows, and add not 
another — Oh, my father! 

Broivn. My child — my child ! 

Alice. Oh, say you will stay your purpose. Come back to our 
dear old home — come back, and our lives shall know no object but to 
make you happy — we'll work and toil — you shall not know a care — 
Oh, father, answer me, or my heart will break. 

Brown. My child I could not if I would. I am bound by an oath 
I dare not break. Take her from me, girl, [to Julia,} Remember her 
mother's trust. God bless you both ! 

[Turns away. — Alice clings to Jdlia.] 



ACT III. 

SCENE I. Interior of the Kennedy Farm, near Ilarper^s Ferry. 
Bkown seated at table with letters. 

Brown. [ Reading letter.] It is well known, that in every instance 
where an enlightened body of men have espoused the cause of the 
oppressed, and have endeavored to set them free, the result has 



OSSAWATTOMIE BKOAVN. 17 

invariably proved a failure, from sole cause that the would-be libera- 
tors, depend on the co-operation of those whose battles they are fight- 
ing, hut which inevitably fails them at the moment of action. This 
is a painful conviction, but one that is forced upon every thinking 
mind by all past experience. It is a stubborn fact, reccorded in the 
history of ages. To emancipate at one blow any down-trodden race, 
you must provide force enough to liberate them at least without 
co-operation from^ if not absolutely against their will. In withholding 
education from the slaves, the men of the South have raised a barrier 
that is mightier than any force of arms that can be brought to bear 
against it, and it is called ignorance and fear. If, in spite of these 
arguments, you are still determined to rush on to the attack, I will 
give you all the pecuniary aid in my power, but remember, I have no 
faith in the success of the underiaJcing. A Philosopher.'' [Speaki?ig.] 
There's a wet blanket, and from a professed abolitionist ! [Dei'isively.] 
An old fox. A philosopher truly — but one of that school that fattens 
on the follies of men, and chuckles over his wisdom and his prudence. 
AVell, friend, ha, ahem ! [ checking himself] your money may do more 
for us than your sympathy, but I would not give much for either. 
What have we here 1 [ opening another letter.] signed G. S. — ha, this 
is joining opposites if you will. Mark now from that stoic, this nervous, 
sympathetic nature that feels the wrongs of others as they were 
his own. [Reads.] " Is it natural when the body's bent, to regain its 
upright posture 1 Is it natural, were one hand corded to our side, 
the other should be used to free if? Is it not a law divine, that when 
the bird escapes from bondage it soars to retain, its freedom 1 Are 
we not therefore bound by strong ties ot humanit}^, to burst the ties 
that bind the slaves to bondage, that they may soar to regain their 
level with the free men of the earth." [Spea/cing.] Those may be 
the sentiments of a visionary enthusiast, but there's more humanity 
in them, and I like him for it. ^YeI], boy 1 [As Oliver enters 

Eater Oliver. 

Oliver. Another load of rifles has arrived. I want directions about 
going down after them. There are also several of our people waiting 
to see the Captain. 

Brown. I cannot see them until I have finished looking over these 
letters. 

Oliver. Are they from friends in the North ? 

Brown. Yes; from our friends •'P/ii7o.«op/ter," and " (r. >S." One 
predicting failure, and the other success as inevitable results. One 
thing is certain, the result, be it what it may, cannot much aflecfc 
them at the very safe distance they are likely to remain. 

Oliver. There seems to be no question as to the result. 

Broivn. No, nor is there. It depends not on these men who preach 
to us. They would not place themselves here, as I have done, sound- 
ed every depth, Avatched and waited till the time should come, and 
guarded every avenue to surprise. I have set emissaries to find out 
how the pulse beats in every part. I have organized a plan whereby 



18 OSSAWATTOMIE BROWN. 

our forces are so stationed, that in one day's time I have them at 
command. I have collected arms, unknowing to the people, that, in 
the hands of outraged men, who are fighting for their freedom, would 
insure their safety against many thousand. This is no lawless out- 
break — we are not here to murder and to rob. God knows I have 
no thirst for blood. Those weapons are for self-defense — to guard 
the passage of our rescued band to shores of greater safety — and T 
have no fear in leaving it to all humanity to justify the act. 

Enter Watson. 

Watson. Father, Cook has just arrived, and wants to see yoa 
Brown. Let him come in. 

Enter Cook, disguised as a Peddler. 

Well, friend, what news 1 

Cook. Much, that is satisfactory. I have been in many Northern 
towns since I was here, and in every place is the same sympathy 
evinced, the same assistance offered. When I come this way I am 
cautious, as you see, disguising myself in this way in order to ascer- 
tain the feeling that is manifested. 

Brown. And you find the cause goes well 1 

Cook. The cause works gloriously. We have more sympathy 
than you would well believe. Every man who dares to speak his 
real thoughts, is ready for the struggle. All seem prepared, and 
once let the blow be struck, there is not one but goes with us, heart 
and hand. 

Brown. And the sooner now that blow is struck, the better. [Ris- 
ing.] This is no sudden movement. Men have worked for this with 
patient toil for years. It is a question that involves the whole social 
structure of the world — and what is this poor brain, and heart, and 
strength to give to such a cause 1 I have seen it could bo done, and 
seen the means, and now the time is come — 'tis ripe — 'tis almost here 
— one effort and the day is ours. 

Cook. God speed it, and make it a bloodless one. 

Brown. And bloodless it shall be. For what else was time and 
caution needed '? Wo are not here for purposes of blood and riot. 
He among us who would strike a blow, except in self-defense, falls at 
once from a martyr and a hero, to grovel among the lowest felons of 
the earth. But I must leave you, for I have weighty business yet on 
hand. [Exit. 

OUver. [To Cook.] Go you with my brother and refresh yourself 
I must away to bring up the rifles. 

Cook. Heaven speed the cause. 

Oliver. Amen ! [Exeunt severally. 



OSSAWATTOMIE BROWN. 19 

SCENE 11. Same as Scene I, Act I. 
Enter Jeptha. 

Jeptha. Well, now, it's peskj^ queer that there can't be no peace in 
this 'ere family anyhow. I did think when we got safe back witli 
hull skins, which the dear knows was a miracle under the circum- 
stances, that there'd be somethin' pleasant in the shape of a weddin'. 
Instead of that, everything's gone as crooked as a blind bull arter a 
butterfly. When I think of it — well there, it's no use. [Ciying.] 
There was Miss Alice a tryin to forget all the queer shines the old 
man's been a cuttin" up, and beginnin' to look so pretty and sunshiny 
again, and the young gentleman was a skippin' around her like a bee 
round a honeysuckle, when bang comes in old Pap Dearborn and for- 
bids the banns. Oh, dear ! when I think of it — well there, it's no use. 
ICries.] He says that her father ain*t actin' respectable, and that 
^is son shan't marry /ii5 daughter. That is, Pap Dearborn sez his 
son shan't marry our Pap's daughter. Oh, dear, when I think of it 
— well there, its no use. [Cries. 

Enter Ralph. 

Ralph. Jeptha I 

Je-ptha. Lord ! how ye skeered me. 

Ralph. Why, did you think it was a certain young Irish gentleman 
that I saw going round the corner just now '? 

Jeptha. No, Little Billy's not a gentleman, and I reckon he never 
will be, but I thought it was young Mrs. Brown, and I wouldn't let 
her see me cryin' for anythin', for her own sorrows are always a 
comin' up in big round tears to her eyes, but always driven back 
again for fear they'd pain her darling, as she calls her. 

Ralph. How is she, how is Alice 1 

Jeptha. Well, if ye want me to say she's pretty well I can't, 'cause 
it aint so, but she's able to get up to-day for the first time since you 
see her before. 

Ralph. Thank heaven for that. But will she see me 1 

Jeptha. Well I don't really think she will. You see she's as duti- 
ful as a new preacher, and things is turnin' out worse and worse. The 
old man's turned out to be a ringleader, and that's somethin' worse 
than robbin' on the high seas. 

Ralph. Why will that rash man bring all this trouble on us 1 

Jeptha. I don't know. But I do know that whatever he does he 
thinks it's right, and I won't hear nobody speak agin' him. Old pap 
brought me up, and thoug*h I ain't turned out much, it aint no fault 
of his, for he's a regular church member and talks every bit as smart 
as the deacon, 

Ralph. If Alice would but see me for a moment — 

Jeptha. Well don't look so kill-me-quick-ish and I'll go and see. 
Oh dear, when I think of it — well it's no use — [Cries and exit. 

Ralph. I cannot but blame my father who exacts this cruel sacri- 
fice. But if Alice would consent to brave his displeasure for a while — 



20 OSSAWATTOMIE BROWN. 

Enter Alice. 

Alice. Ralph! 

Jtialph. Alice, dear Alice, how it grieves me to see you suffer thus. 
Can no argument, no fears for ray peace induce you to alter your de- 
cision 7 

Alice. No, dear Ralph. I know all you would urge, but indeed I 
cannot — dare not accede. You owe a duty to your father which you 
must obey at any sacrifice, and were I to tempt you from that dut\^, 
it would forever stand between us and our happiness. It was to tell 
you this, and show you how wrong it is for us to meet with such a 
barrier between us, that brought me to you now. 

Ralph. Alice, listen to me. 

Alice. I dare not. I could not forego the joy of looking on your 
dear face once again, but you must leave me now. Strive with all 
your manly courage to forget the love you bear me, and try as I shall 
pray you may do, to forget me. Leave me — farewell — 

Ralph. Alice, I will not reproach you for your harsh decision, but 
may you never know the anguish it has caused me. Farewell for- 
ever. [Rushes out as Julia enters. 

Alice. Ralph — Ralph ! oh, it will break my heart. 

\_Falls on Julia's shoulder, who leads her off, 

SCENE III. Same room in Dearborn's house. 
Enter Dearborn. 

Dearh. There really is no accounting for the tastes of the young 
men of the present day. Here's my son with the coolest indifference 
renounces in one breath all claim to the hand of my pretty little niece, 
and her three thousand a year. True, he pleads a prior attachment, 
but then what do these sentimental attachments amount to with the 
young men of the present day. 

Enter Servant. 

Servant. Sir, a lady wishes to see you on important business. 
Dearh. Show the lady in. \^Exit Servant.] Really I begin to feel 
nervous this cannot be — 

Enter Julia and Jeptha. 

Why bless me, this must be the sentimental attachment. Madame 
are you 1 am I to suppose — 

Julia. I come, sir, on behalf of my sister. 

Dearh. [_Aside.] Oh I the sister to the sentimental attachment. 

Julia. Do not imagine I am here at her request — she is for too 
young and innocent for that — and I am so much older ; indeed, stand 
almost in the light of a mother to her. 

Dearh. A mother ! dear me, impossible. 

Julia. Oh, sir, if you could see her — she, whom your son had 
chosen for his wife, when all was happy round them — when she gave 
him her young, pure heart, without a doubt to mar the brightness of 
the future. 



OSSAWATTOMIE BROWN. 21 

Dearh. Madam, this intercession — 

Julia. Oh, sir, do not blame me. Could I, or any one who 
loved her, see her young head bowed down with sorrow, and make 
no effort to alleviate if? 

Dearh. What would you have me do 1 

Julia. What do 1 She was once happy, free — your son came and 
won her to himself— her heart was his — her happiness, her life — in 
losing him, she loses all. Restore her her happiness, and with it life 
and hope. 

Dearh. The daughter of a wild fanatic, who has made his name 
notorious — 

Julia. And she, the innocent victim of your pride, is made to suffer 
for the wrongs of others. 

Dearh. I am sorry, very sorry — but I can never consent to a union 
of my son. to a daughter of that mad — that misguided man. 

Julia. Then all is lost, indeed. [^ExH. followed hy Jeptiia. 

Dearh. Really, this young woman's story, in spite of my naturally 
strong nerves [taking out his handkerchief,] has quite — 

Re-enter Jeptha, suddenly. 

Jepiha. You thought I was gone, didn't you 1 

Dearh. [Starting violently.] Bless me ! young woman. 

Jeptha. Reckon you're nervous, aint you? I jest stepped back to 
gve you a piece of my mind, right straight up and down. And to 
begin, I think you're a great heap more nice than wise. You aint 
too good lookin', nuther — nor too well dragged up, though you do 
stick it out you be— and Miss Alice, with her sweet face, and pretty 
ways, aint no more fit to be in the same house with you, than a white 
dove in a thunderstorm. You won't let your son marry her, 'cause of 
the boss — but you don't know everything — I ain't lived in the 
family all my life, for nothin' — and if you don't have to give in yet, 
old fellow, there's no squeakin' in pigs. 

Dearh. Reallv, young woman, tfiis extraordinary conduct — 

[Exit. 

Jeptha. Well, I guess the old un's heard enough — he hops out like 
an old bull frog on his hind legs. Well, as I can't be doin' nothin' 
here, I guessi'd better be a goin' too. [^Exit. 



SCENE IV. — Exterior of Armory at Harper's Ferry. 

Several of Brown's men stationed as Sentinels — Enter Cook and 
Oliver — They sign to Sentinels, and are approaching the entrance, 
when Brown appears from within. 

Brown. Well, lads, what cheer 1 

Cook. All right, Captain ; all is going on steadily and quietly. 

Broken Yes, the die is cast — and thus far, success attends us. By 



22 OSSAWATTOMIE BROWN. 

taking possession of the armory, we can suppl}^ our forces with such 
arms as could not be procured elsewhere. Are the reinforcements 
still coming in 1 

Cook. I must sa}', but slowlj'. 

Brown. Do you keep strict watch for the employees of this build- 
ing ? 

Oliver Yes ; but I reckon you have thera all inside there, close 
prisoners. 

Brown. Is all quiet at the hotel ? 

Oliver. Yes ; but it seems more the quiet of fear than securitj*. 
The lights are all out. 

Brown. Fools ! they need not fear if they let us alone. But it was 
that skirmish on the bridge that scared them. If they send word 
down by that train, we may yet get hot work. 

Cook. We are gathering men from the plantations every minute. 

Brown. True ; but it all takes time — and until they see something 
like a force here, they will not rally. Are all who received instruc- 
tions off to the plantations 1 

Cook. All that had the word. For my party it lacks an hour. 

Brown. Never mind that hour. If you are ready, start. Get 
every able negro ; securing the master to bring here as prisoner. It 
is important we have men of influence to be held as hostage, in case 
of an attack. 

Cook. You have some big men already, Captain, and if luck aids 
me I will bring you more. {Exit. 

Brown. Why did I let that ti"ain go down 1 they'll take the news, 
and if our reinforcements are thus tardy — [To Oliver.] Have you 
found out who killed that man upon the bridge 1 

Oliver. No sir, but it was one of our party. 

Brown. It was a mad, a ruinous act ! It never had my sanction. 
It would give them an excuse, should our cause fail, to disregard the 
rules of open warfare, and shoot us down like dogs. 

Oliver. Do you think it was well to let that train pass 1 

Brown. I fear it was an evil stroke of policy — but if it prove so, 
I've but to thank the sentiment that prompted me, for I swear 'twas 
one of mercy. 

Enter Watson. 

Watson. There is a report of the approach of forces brought on to 
aitack us here. 

Brown. How did you learn the rumor 1 

Watson. Some of our men say they are tight upon us. 

Brown. Ah ! the telegraph wires have not escaped destruction 1 

Watson. No! 

Brown. And the reinforcements ? 

Watson. Still come slowly in. Some are lurking in the woods, as 
if to secure escape. 

Brown. Afraid to join us ! The coward herd ! 'Tis all the effects of 
letting that train pass down. [To Oliver.] Go you, my lad, and see 



OSSAWATTOMIE BROWN. 23 

wLat you can learn. [Exit Oliver,] Fool that I was, to let such a 
miserable weakness sway me in the matter ! 

Enter one of Brown'' s men. 

3Ian. Well, Captain, the cause looks queer. Troops are already 
coraincr up from Charlestown, and I should not wonder but we'll have 
hot work. 

Enter Oliver. 

Oliver, The sentinels at the bridge are already overpowered. 
There is a great stir at the hotel. I can scarce keep the men at their 
posts, they fear the armory will be stormed. 

Brown. No fear of that while the prisoners are within. They will 
not fire at risk of killing them. Tell every man to keep his post 
until the last. Come you, lads, into the building by this door, come 
all of you. [Sentinels and men file in.] If they are coming, we will 
not be unprepared. They must treat with us to save the prisoners — 
and if the worst shows us grim death, we will teach them we can 
face it, and not be killed like dogs. [Exeunt into armory. 

A noise is heard as of the approach of a body of people. Brown 
reappears at entrance, looks around and turns to give orders 
within. 

Brown. Ah ! they are upon us ; take care of the prisoners. Place 
them in a position where they may not be injured. Open those doors 
at back to let in our people, these are no longer safe. Now then, to 
work, to barricade these doors. [Retires. < 

The noise of barricading is heard within. Shouts increase without. 
Tramp of Military^ who presently appear, preceded by a noisy 
crowd. Shouts kept up with cries of, down with them. 
Capt. 31. Make an entrance. 

[Soldiers attempt to batter in the doors, which do not yield. 

Surrender ! 

[The door is opened and an aged citizen appears bearing a flag of 
truce. 

Do you surrender 1 

Voice. [From within.'] No, but name conditions. 

Capt. M. What are they 1 

'Voice That we are allowed to take the prisoners with us as a body 

guard to a stipulated place, and then suffered to go free. 

[Cries of no, no, murmuring among the people. 
Capt. M. We cannot grant your terms. Nothing but an uncondi- 
tional surrender. 

[Cries of down with them ! Tumult increases. Doors again barri- 
caded. A ladder is procured and used by the soldiers as a batter- 
ing ram. After repeated efforts the door is burst open. Soldiers 
rush iti. Skirmish. Cries of. Look to the prisoners I Oliver 
and Watson arc see;i ^0 fall, and Brown is brought out a pris- 
oner. Shouts. 



24 OSSAWATTOMIE BROWX. 

SCENE V. street. 

Enter Stevens, marks of blood on Ids face and clothes, staggering. 
Looking hack as if pursued. Shouts. Enter a hody of men, with \ 
cries of Down with him ! Shoot him.! Sinks exhausted, and in \ 
an attitude of despair, begs for mercy. Shouts and hisses. He is:, 
thrown from one to the other. Pistols fired. He is wounded. Falls. ; 
Partly rising, he drags himself off, followed by mob, shouting. ; 

1 

SCENE VI. Prison. . '{ 

Bkowx lying on a cot, holding newspaper. ; 

Brown. Tried — condemned — aye, and executed, if these fellows i 
Lad their way. But not that yet. How easy it is for them to string : 
a few light words together to sum up the aims and creation of a \ 
scheme like this, of which they know so little. Lost ! It is not lost, i 
True, our effort failed, and our lives must pay the forfeit, but the \ 
cause — the glorious cause — lives yet in the hearts of men who will ■[ 
follow in our footsteps. 

Enter Jailor. 

Jailor. Old man Brown, there are some more gentleman wish to ; 
speak with you, shall I bring them in 7 i 

Brown. Yes, let them come in. [Exit Jailor.] Another lot to see j 
the old wolf in liis cage. i 

Enter Reporter, Citizen and Jailor. 

Reporter. Good day, Mr. Brown ; do I disturb you 7 ■ 

Brown. No, sir, I am glad to see you. A New York Reporter, I ■ 
believe 1 [He bows.] I am always glad to see you gentlemen, for \ 
there are so many false reports and misstatements regarding our un- ' 
dertaking, or rather its failure, that I can but look to you to set it 
right. I know that your superior education and cosmopolitan habits, ' 
render you freer ftom prejudice than most men, and I always look ■ 
for truth from your hands. i 

Reporter. I am glad to have your good opinion. But do they I 
make you comfortable here'? ) 

Citizen. Comfortable : what does he deserve ? ■; 

Brown. You are a slaveholder, I suppose ? [To citizen.] ^ 

Reporter. To what do you accredit your failure, Mr. Brown? \ 

Brown. Entirely to a mistake. To my mistake in letting that train ] 
go down. 

Citizen. And to Southern chivalry. 

Brown. I was unwilling to cause unnecessary suffering, and this is ": 
the result. ■ 

Citize.n You would not cause unnecessary suffering, but you'd 
steal niggers. 

Reporter. Sir, whoever you may be, allow me to say, I think your ; 



OSSAWATTOMIE BROWN. 2f 

remark unwarranted. For there is no occasion when unmerited in- 
sult can come from the lips of a gentleman. 

Citizen. Oh ! I suppose you are a pair of abolitionists together, 
ind as I only came to take a look at the prisoners, I'll leave you. 
Good day to you both. [Exit. 

Brotvn. I need not tell you that I have a great many such visitors. 
But I do not take their absurd speeches as any insult, for they do not 
represent the class they pretend to belong to. 

Reporter. I am not sure that I fully understand your object in this 
movement. 

Brown. Whatever is represented to the contrary, believe me, our 
sole object was to free the slaves, Irom motives of philanthropy. We 
look upon ourselves as workers in a great and good cause, to which 
we have sacrificed our lives. I would have wished it otherwise, but 
being so, we lay them down freely, and trust that the future will beam 
on more successful efforts. 

Reporter. However I may condemn that cause, or the means taken 
to uphold it, I can but admire the man, who, thinking it right, sacri- 
fices all to it as you have done. Mr. Brown, I would like to converse 
further with you, but I see it is against the rules, and I would not be 
the means of curtailing your few privileges. Good bye. I may see 
you again. 

Broicn. Good bye, sir, I feel happier for having seen you. [Exit 
Reporter and Jailor.} And so I am to have a visit from a lady. Mrs. 
Sligo, I know her well by name. It is generous and kind of the good 
soul to come to me. But I fancy it is not so much the sympathizing 
woman feeling for one in my desolate position, as the strong minded 
lady claiming sympathy with the cause. Good soul ! she had better 
leave the cause alone, and claim no sympathy but what her heart 
teaches. However I must not be ungrateful for her kindness. 

Enter Mrs. Sligo and Jailor. 

Mrs. Sligo. Oh, my poor, dear, persecuted man. I felt all your 
sufferings, and I thought I could not better aid the noble cause, for 
which you bleed, than by exerting every influence to get to see you. 

[Takes out tablet. 
Brown. Madame, I am truly grateful for your kindness. 

[Exit Jailor. 

Mrs. Sligo. [ Writing his words dotcn.] And you are prepared for 

the worst 1 And willing to die a martyr, and all that sort of thing % 

Brown. I am willing to follow where the other brave hearts have 

gone before. I regret the course of events more for others than for 

myself. 

Mrs. Sligo. [Aside.} I always said so. What a man, to be sure! 
He's as calm and collected as if he was not going to be hung, and — 
and all that sort of thing. 

Enter Jailor. 
Jailor. Madam I am sorry, but there is another lady. Prepare 
yourself, sir, to see — 

[Julia rushes on and sinks on her knees at the hedsids 



26 OSSAWATTOMIE BROWN. 

Julia. Father! 

Brown. My child, my child. [Exit Mes. Sligo.^ 

Julia. Oh how I have prayed to see you once again. 

Bro-wn. Poor child, I thought they would not let you come to me 

Julia. Nor would they until now. 

Brown. How ill and pale you look, and yet you found courage to 
come and comfort the old man in his prison. 

Julia. Are you not his father 1 Could I desert you in your hour of 
peril, and hope to meet his smile 7 

Brown. Dear child. 

Julia. I have seen tliem, too. They whom he loved so well. I 
have stolen to their graves and wet them with my tears. [ Giving 
him a leaf.] I planted this in secret o'er them, and when 'twas done 
I plucked this tiny spray and brought it to you, that you might see 
the flower that grows above their grave. 

Broion. [ Weeping over it.] My sons ! my sons ! 



SCENE VII.— .4 Corridor in the Farrr 

Enter Jepiha. 

Jeptha. I wish Miss Julia would come back. I was hard-hearted 
as a crab to send her — but I could not see the gal a pinin' away any 
more 'an she could — and when I told her I knew what would fetch 
all square with Pap Dearborn, off she goes to the old man for proofs, 
for it 'pears what I say aint no use unless it's writ down by somebody 
else. Here comes Little Billy, lookin' for all the world like a young 
banty with his feathers flyin'. 

Enter Little Billy. 

Little B. Are ye here, me darlint 7 

Jeptha. Your darlin'. I'd like tew know. 

Little B. And aint ye me darlint that's to be Mrs. Billy in two 
blessed weeks 1 But what's the matter 1 

Jeptha. Nothin'. 

Little B. Ye aint offended 1 

Jeptha. No! 

Little B. Ye little divil, ye know ye be ! And that [Kisses her.] 
was what's the matter. 

Jeptha. You'd orter be more christianly, and so much trouble in 
the house. 

Little B- [Wiping his eyes.] Who's in disthress 1 

Jeptha. Never you mind, but jest go right to Pap Dearljorn and 
fetch him here. If he asks you what for, tell him there's some things 
you don't know, and that's one of 'em. The dear knows ! this family 
would all go to tew pot if it warn't for me. [Exit. 

Little B. That gal's as full of since as a herrin's full of bones. Now 
I'm to fotch Mr. Dearbones. Well old Dearbone, or chape bone, or 
whatever yer name is, if ye don't come I'll carry ye. ^ [Exit. 



OSSAWATTOMIE BROWN. 27 

SCENE VIII. Same as scene /, Act I. 

Enter Jeptha and Ralph. 

Jeptha. Taint no use I tell ye. 

Ralph. But I am going away for years, perhaps forever. 
Jeptha. Well ! taint no use. \_Aside.] Maybe yer aint goin' as quick 
as you think. 

Enter Alice, who starts on seeing Ralph. 

Alice. Ralph, you here 1 

Ralph. Forgive me, Alice. I will no longer pain you by my 
presence. [ Going. 

Jeptha. [Detaining him.] Lorkee here — jest keep the quarrel up 
a little longer. I can't explain, but something might turn up. 

Enter Julia. Alice screams and rushes to her. 

Alice. Dear Julia, you are ill. 

Julia. [Taking paper from her bosom and forcing it into Ralph's 
hand.] Never mind — read — read. 

Enter Little Billy and Dearborn. 

Ralph, [Glancing over paper.] Alice is not my daughter. Adopt- 
ed from her birth — proofs to be found — father — Alice — can this be 
true? 

Jeptha. True 1 of course it's true. I knew it all the time. Three 
cheers for General Washington ! 

Julia. [Seeing Dearborn.] Thank Heaven ! I am not too late. 
You consent 1 [Dearborn joins their hands. 

Alice. Sister, dear sister. 

Julia. Do not grieve for me. I am happy — oh, how happy — for I 
soon shall be with him. Farewell, my sister. Frederick, my hus- 
band. I come — I come. 

[Dies, Alice awcZ Ralph yom hands in prayer. Dearborn ^wrns 
away. Jeptha and Billy weep. Slow music. 



TBB END. 



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